


The Last of the Real Ones

by MissTiffanyBlews



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Dwarf/Elf Relationship(s), F/M, Interspecies Relationship(s), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 15:32:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12560532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissTiffanyBlews/pseuds/MissTiffanyBlews
Summary: Another fanfic with an additional member of the Company.Farah is a Bosmer, a Wood Elf. She's dedicated her life to the Dark Brotherhood and the Thieves Guild. With the history of crime, she wouldn't make the best fit in a group of honorable dwarves. Being an elf is just the icing on top. But she's Dragonborn, so there's no one better take along on a quest to slay a dragon.





	The Last of the Real Ones

**Author's Note:**

> As a heads up, it had been a LONG time since I've written a fanfiction. I haven't even done narrative writing in awhile, so I'm out of practice and it make take awhile for this story to actually git gud.

Muscles tensed, her jaw clenched as she stood her ground, feet spread in a wide stance. Red eyes narrowed as she stared the Dunmer down. Her fingers curled as she resisted using a lesser ward spell. 

“Just stay still.”

Brelyna’s words were not reassuring. Farah wasn’t quite sure how she had gotten into this mess. But agreeing to help the other elf seemed like a good idea, as friends were few and far between for her. But would it be worth it if she was harmed? Being turned green and then into a variety of animals had at least been reversible. 

A blast of blue magicka shot out of Brelyna’s hand. When it hit her, it was as if she had been run over by a mammoth. The wind was knocked out of her, making her desperately gasp for air. When she fell to the ground, she did not fall onto the stone floor of the College, but instead onto soft grass. Vision spinning, she struggled to make sense of her surroundings. Everything was so bright when only moments ago they had been using torches to see. 

A wheezing cough escaped her lungs as she rolled over onto her side. Gone was the cold perpetual winter of Winterhold, and in its place was the shining light of a bright and warm sun. Farah glared at the blue sky, as if offended by its existence. Alright, so it seemed as if Brelyna’s spell had moved her somewhere else. And perhaps a good amount of time had passed as it had been just passed sundown and now it looked about midday. Hopefully she was at least still in Skyrim.

Using a tree for support, she rose on shaking legs. Her head was pounding and she had no idea where she was. The forest did not at all look familiar, which was concerning. She had been to the far corners of Skyrim, and she tended to remember each and every forest as a Wood Elf.

Gloved fingers resting on the handle of the Blade of Woe, she picked a direction to travel. She could only hope she would soon find some sort of civilization and they could tell her where she was. She spent her time on the road hunting a few passing creatures. The foxes and rabbits were a bit more aware than usual, as they tended not to notice someone until they were tripped over. She skinned the beasts and ate their meat raw, not wanting to waste time on stopping for a fire.

When a town was finally found, it was not one Farah had heard of before. Bree was a town inhabited by what she believed to be Imperials. As a Bosmer herself, she wasn’t the best at differentiating between Imperials and Nords. She was given odd looks as she walked through. The people of the town whispered as she passed by, seemingly shocked by her clothing. Although it made her stand out at times, Farah worn the uniform given to her by the Dark Brotherhood with pride. It caused many to fear her greatly. The magical enhancement of the clothing was a bonus as well.

“How much for the night?” she asked the moment she walked into the inn. Much of the chatter of the Prancing Pony had tapered off from her presence. As it turned out, Bree didn’t use septims as currency. But gold was gold and despite the uneasy looks the innkeeper gave her, she was given a bed and food for the night.

The furs she had carried into town were traded for a map, which she spread out over the table in the tavern. Laughing and drinking had resumed when the citizens had realized she wasn’t there to kill them all or do something equally astonishing. Farah offered a nod to the woman who placed a plate of food on the corner of the map.

What was concerning, however, was that she didn’t recognize any of it. It was apparently a map of Middle-Earth. “Ma’am,” she called out before the waitress could make her leave. “You wouldn’t happen to have a map of Tamriel, would you?”

“I’m sorry?” the woman asked, blinking at her in confusion.

Farah could feel her heart in her throat, which she tried to swallow down. “Tamriel. Or of Skyrim, perhaps? Valenwood? Morrowind?” Still, the woman looked at her blankly. “Right -- nevermind then. Thank you.”

Whatever traces of hunger had been in her stomach were instantly gone. Farah stared at the map intensely, wishing it would suddenly transform into that of Skyrim. But she wasn’t so lucky.

“If I had to guess, my lady, I would say you’re looking where to begin your next adventure.”  
Head snapping up, Farah had failed to notice an old man approach her table. He reminded her of the Greybeards with the way he was dressed. Apparently he thought he was invited as he sat down across from her.

“Beg pardon?” she asked, not in the mood for games.

“I am offering assistance, my dear lady, if you require it. Adventures in this part of Middle-Earth are rare and hard to come by, although I may know of one.”

“I’m not quite sure what you’re getting at. Look, old man, if you want to hire me, perform the Black Sacrament. Only then am I contractually obligated to do anything.”

“Not even for more gold than you can imagine?”

“Sithis, who even are you? Do you always come up to strangers like this?”

“I am Gandalf the Grey, and I am looking for someone to join me on an adventure.”


End file.
